Noble
by Vol lady
Summary: The backstory of James and Alice Noble, who helped Heath in my story "Add on the Barkley."
1. Chapter 1

Noble

Chapter 1

1877

Heath and Nick had come to Jarrod's office in town to sign some documents conveying some land to an adjoining owner. They had come in by wagon that was currently over at the mercantile, getting filled up with supplies they had ordered – they were never ones to waste a trip to town. "Okay, these are the last ones," Jarrod finally said and put a piece of paper down in front of them.

"Good," Nick said and signed twice. "Now you can buy us lunch."

Jarrod chuckled as Heath signed in two spots on the paper. "I just got you a good deal on this land you sold, and now you want lunch, too?"

"Yeah," Heath said, perfectly frankly, as if Jarrod were insane for asking.

Jarrod gathered up the papers, making sure they were in order before slipping them into his briefcase. "I'll file these later today and we'll be in good shape. Where do you want to have lunch?"

"Cattlemen's," Nick said quickly.

The most expensive place in town. Jarrod chuckled again. "All right, Cattlemen's it is."

Jarrod donned his gun belt and hat as Nick and Heath fetched their hats from the table by the door where they'd left them. As they did, someone outside the door knocked. Nick gave Jarrod a look, and when Jarrod nodded, he opened the door.

The man and woman on the other side looked questioningly at first, but then all three Barkley men broke into smiles to see them. "Mr. and Mrs. Noble!" Jarrod exclaimed. "Come on in here!"

"We didn't see your secretary out there, Jarrod," James Noble said as he and his wife came in.

"She's out running an errand," Jarrod said and extended his hand. "Come in, come in, sit down. You remember my brothers, Nick and Heath."

Handshakes went all around. Nick and Heath both smiled and nodded to them as the older couple sat down in the chairs in front of Jarrod's desk. Heath's smile was a little bigger. He knew the Nobles from the time he'd been robbed and wounded on the road, and they took him in for a night and fixed his wounded leg up. Nick didn't know them as well as Heath did, but he remembered Jarrod prosecuting the man who had murdered their son six years ago.

"What brings you folks to town?" Jarrod asked, sitting down behind his desk again.

"We're gonna be moving in," James Noble said. "We've bought the old Weaver house down on Oak Street, and we'd like you to handle the paperwork for us."

"It would be my pleasure," Jarrod said. "I'm glad you're coming to town. It'll be better for you, and it'll make Stockton a better place."

Alice Noble smiled. "You always were a charmer, Jarrod."

"You're buying it from their daughter, Madeline Bird, am I right?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes," James said. "She hasn't gotten her lawyer yet, but I expect she's out doing that today."

"I'll find out who it is and we'll put the papers together," Jarrod said. "Are you getting a loan from the bank?"

"Yes, short term until we sell our place, I hope," James said.

"I'll touch base over there, too. We'll get this done as soon as possible. In the meantime, I'm taking these two reprobates to lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, I'm afraid we can't," Alice said. "We have to see the estate agent about selling our place."

The Nobles got up, and Jarrod stood, too, reaching his hand out to them again. "We'll get you squared away as soon as possible."

"I expect you're gonna need help moving your things, when the time comes," Heath said.

James nodded.

"Well, we're your men," Heath said.

Nick nodded. "We can have a crew take good care of you," he said.

"That's wonderful, thank you," Alice said. "It's a little frightening, giving up the home we've lived in for so long and moving into town."

"You won't be sorry you did it," Jarrod said. "There are a lot of good people in Stockton who will be glad to see you."

The Nobles said good-bye and were soon out the door. As soon as they were, Heath said, "Those are two fine people."

"Two fine people who deserve better than life handed them," Jarrod said. "When their son was killed, a lot of us were afraid it was going to do them in, but they've rallied."

Heath wasn't around when Jarrod prosecuted their son's murderer, but Nick was. He remembered quite a few things about it, not just how hard it had been on the Nobles. The fellow named Pittsfield who had been tried for the crime had friends, and they beat up Jarrod pretty good to try to get him to throw the case. Jarrod had gotten them arrested and they were sent off to San Quentin for assaulting a prosecutor. They had misjudged the prosecutor. Jarrod got Pittsfield convicted, and the man was hanged.

The Barkley men went off to lunch, and once finished Jarrod went off to the courthouse to file the real estate papers Nick and Heath had signed. Nick and Heath picked up their wagon loaded with supplies at the mercantile and headed home.

"I'm glad to see the Nobles moving into town," Heath said as they rode along, side by side.

Nick said, "Yeah, they're getting up in years. They'll be better off having neighbors closer to help them. When their son was killed, we were all pretty worried it would be the end of them. Flynn was a good kid. He took care of them and helped out a lot of people around here, too."

"The Nobles helped me not long ago when I got robbed and wounded," Heath said, remembering that wounded leg. "I'm sorry I never got to know their son."

"He was twenty when he was killed," Nick said, remembering. "He'd been here in town helping fix the schoolhouse roof that day. The whole town was madder than hell when Flynn was killed. Came as close to a lynching as I've ever seen it come, but Jarrod was a prosecutor then and he got the case. Things seemed to settle down once he took charge and people saw this Pittsfield guy was gonna get prosecuted…"

XXXXXXXX

1871

Six Years Earlier

Alice Noble was beyond distraught when Sheriff Lyman brought the news, and he stood there in their living room feeling as helpless as he had ever felt in his life. James Noble was with his wife on the sofa, his arms around her, both of them crying but James holding himself together better. "Who did this?" James asked, growling. "Who killed our boy?"

"I've arrested a drifter named Pittsfield," Sheriff Lyman said. "He rode into town with a few of friends and it looks like Pittsfield jumped Flynn after he lost all his money in a poker game."

"Flynn didn't have any money," Alice sobbed.

"Not much," Sheriff Lyman said, "and it looks like what happened is Pittsfield got mad that he didn't and killed him. But he took Flynn's watch – we found it on him. That's why I arrested him."

"These friends of his – " James asked.

"It looks like this was all Pittsfield's doing," Sheriff Lyman said. "His buddies weren't involved."

"Where is Flynn now?"

"At the undertaker's. I'll have him brought home if that's what you want."

"Yes – " Alice moaned.

But James said, "Let's go into town and talk to the undertaker and Reverend Johnson. We can't make any decisions right now."

"I need to tell you," Sheriff Lyman said, "folks in town are pretty riled up. I took on two more deputies to keep an eye on Pittsfield because I don't know whether some people might try to take him out and lynch him. People liked Flynn a lot."

James was already shaking his head. "No, no, he can't be lynched. He has to be tried. We have to see a trial. Flynn deserves a trial."

"I just wanted you to know what's going on," the sheriff said. "The District Attorney has the case. He'll either try it himself or give it to his assistant, Jarrod Barkley. Either one of them will do a thorough job."

James kissed his wife on the side of her forehead and said to her, "We need to go to town. Are you ready for that?"

Alice began to get up, nodding, blowing her nose on her handkerchief. "I'm ready."

The sheriff helped them get their buggy hitched and rode with them into town. The place was eerie, people walking around almost all in a daze, almost all of them stopping when they saw the Nobles arriving. A group of men were in front of the jail, but if they were inclined to be threatening, they stopped when they saw the sheriff and the Nobles. The sheriff took the Nobles to the undertaker's and escorted them in.

Shaking, almost afraid to go in there, James kept hold of his wife and together they faced what they had to face. The first person they saw there, in the reception area of the funeral parlor, was Jarrod Barkley. They had known the young man in passing for years. He was nearly 28 now, with several years of legal practice under his belt, and seeing him there gave them something to hold onto, something to steady them.

His hat in his hands, Jarrod immediately reached for them. "I am so sorry," he said and meant it.

"Are you going to try this case?" James immediately asked.

Jarrod nodded. "I've been assigned."

The undertaker came out of the room in back, the room where everyone knew Flynn Noble was laid out. "Mr. and Mrs. Noble," he said. "I am so sorry."

Everyone was so sorry. "I want to see my son," Alice said.

The undertaker nodded. He had gotten Flynn cleaned up so that it would not be so horrible to look at him, but he knew from experience that Mrs. Noble might faint dead away. He knew that grief would come pouring out of the boy's parents in ways he could only react to, not predict.

Jarrod escorted the Nobles into the room, keeping his hand at Alice's back to steady her. He too knew what was going to happen in here would be terrible, gut wrenching, and he fought to keep tears away himself. They stepped inside and stopped almost immediately.

Young Flynn Noble lay on the table in this spare but sunny room, his body covered with a sheet but his face still uncovered. James thought that except for how pale he was, he looked like he was asleep, but Alice knew right away he was gone. He was like alabaster, like stone. Alice collapsed with an awful wail.

Jarrod helped James hold her up. They wanted to get her to a chair, but she pulled them to her son's side. James began to shake and weep quietly while Alice just screamed, touching Flynn's face, caressing him, kissing him, screaming. Jarrod felt the tears run down his own face now, for Flynn, for these good people who had lost their only child, for the all the despair that poured out of them.

The sheriff turned and went outside. He could still hear Alice screaming and crying, and so could the people in the street. There must have been fifty of them right in front of the funeral parlor. Women cried, men held them and cried. Sheriff Lyman looked up at the sky and cursed the sun for shining.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

1871

Sheriff Lyman didn't really want to leave the Nobles at the undertaker's, but a look over toward the jail told him he had to. Men were moving toward the door there. Alice Noble's despair was echoing that far down the otherwise too quiet street. The sheriff quickly hustled through the crowd in front of the undertaker's and then through the crowd of men trying to get to the jail. He turned on the boardwalk in front of the jail and said in as loud a voice as he could muster, "You men! You go home, right now!"

"He's gonna pay!" one man yelled.

The sheriff raised his hands to hold the men back. "He's gonna be tried! Jarrod Barkley has the case and he's already with the Nobles! You need to leave this with him!"

"He's a boy!" someone yelled.

"He's a fine prosecutor!" the sheriff yelled.

The sheriff saw Jarrod coming from the undertaker's. He made his way through the crowd in front of the jail and was standing beside the sheriff in a moment. "You need to go home!" Jarrod yelled. "Don't make this any worse on the Nobles!"

That quieted people down.

Jarrod continued. "They want a trial! They deserve to see a trial, not a lynching! Trust me with this! You all know me! You know I've tried murder cases before! You know I know what I'm doing! Trust me! For the Nobles' sake, trust me! Go home now! Go home to your families and kiss your children and trust me and the sheriff to see to this!"

Jarrod's voice had been full of passion and conviction, and he got through. Men started wandering away.

The sheriff sighed. "They might be back," he said, so quiet only Jarrod could hear him.

"They might," Jarrod said. "Does Pittsfield have a lawyer yet?"

"I don't know, I haven't been in there," Sheriff Lyman said.

"I'm going back up to the undertaker's," Jarrod said. "I don't want to leave the Nobles on their own. Let me know as soon as Pittsfield gets his lawyer."

"I might have to get one appointed."

"Then do it, fast," Jarrod said. "If we can show these people that something's getting done, they'll leave off with the lynching talk."

The sheriff nodded, and Jarrod headed back up to the undertaker's.

The Nobles had quieted down and were sitting together in the reception area. The undertaker was with them, but as soon as Jarrod came back in and nodded to him, the man said, "I'm going to see to your son now. I'll take good care of him."

James Noble nodded. "We know you will."

As the undertaker went back into the back room, Jarrod sat down with the Nobles, reaching for their hands again. "I won't let this linger," he said. "I'll get right to work. I'll get justice for you and Flynn."

Jarrod knew there was a risk in saying such a thing. Sometimes justice just didn't get done, but this time he felt like it would. He had been an assistant district attorney several years earlier, moved on to develop his private practice but then come back to fill in when the current assistant DA had left for a position in Sacramento. He had enough experience under his belt to believe in himself and to believe this case was going to be as cut and dried as they came.

"What happens now?" James asked as Alice continued to weep quietly.

"The man who did this will get a lawyer – we'll get him one if we have to, since it's a capital case," Jarrod said. "The arraignment will be tomorrow morning and a trial date will be set. I'll try to get it as early as I can. I'll even try to get a confession out of the man, but that isn't likely to happen. We'll move this along as quickly as we can. Now – tell me, honestly. Do you have the means to see to Flynn's funeral?"

James took a deep breath. "I don't even know. God, this is happening so fast."

Jarrod said, "Allow me to see that the undertaker is paid, and we can settle up later."

Jarrod was about to ask if they wanted him to go with them to the church to talk to the reverend, but Reverend Johnson came in the door just then. He looked distraught, but steady, calm. "I was out at the Stevenson place and just heard what happened," the reverend said. "James, Alice, I am so sorry."

Jarrod got up and let Reverend Johnson sit down with the Nobles. James began to lose himself, sobbing as he said, "We want the funeral as soon as possible." Alice sobbed louder again.

"Of course," Reverend Johnson said, and he looked up at Jarrod. His look said _I'm here. I'll look after them_.

Jarrod nodded, saying, "I'm going to go now and take care of what I need to do. James, Alice – you come to me if you need me, anytime. We'll get through this. Your friends and your neighbors, we'll help you get through this."

James and Alice both nodded to him. Jarrod squeezed their hands, took a moment to duck into the back room and tell the undertaker to send him the bill, and then left for his office.

XXXXXXX

"Oh, my God – " was all Victoria could say when Jarrod got home that evening and told his family what had happened.

At 13, Eugene just took it all in, watching, listening, showing no reaction at all. They weren't sure if he didn't really feel anything or just wasn't going to show it. Audra had just turned 14 and was only beginning to understand what the death of a human being meant. Of course, animals around the ranch died all the time. She had grown up among lost puppies and horses, but even though many of the ranch hands had been injured on the job, some badly, none had been killed. The death of her father a year earlier was the only loss of a person she'd ever had to deal with and although it had been devastating, she was coping. Now, a young man not much older than herself had been taken, a young man she knew personally. She was stunned.

Her mother and her brothers could see how shaken she was. They knew she was flashing back to her father's death. Nick, now 24 and still settling into his role as master of this ranch, took her into his arms, and she cried, her face buried in his chest. Nick looked up at Jarrod. "You're prosecuting?" he asked.

Jarrod nodded. "I'm going to be pretty busy for a while. Audra, honey – " Jarrod said, putting his hand on her back, comforting her as Nick held her.

Audra turned to look at him, her big brother and surrogate father.

"I know how hard this is for you," Jarrod said. "You can imagine how hard it is for the Nobles. The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. What can we do to help you be up for it?"

"I'll be all right," Audra said, wiping her eyes. "I know they'll need us."

Jarrod looked to his youngest brother. "Eugene? Are you all right?"

Gene nodded, saying, "Yeah. I'm all right," but his words were quiet, private. It was tough to tell whether he meant them or not.

"We'll go over there in the morning," Victoria said, "before the funeral, to make sure they have enough food to see them through a few days, to see what else we can do."

Audra nodded. She was ready.

Nick gave her a kiss on the forehead and a smile. "They'll be grateful. Jarrod, what can I do?"

Jarrod sighed. "I'm not sure yet, Nick. We'll all go to the funeral, of course. They'll need pallbearers."

"I'll get a few men ready," Nick said. "What about you? What do you need to get your job done?"

"I don't know yet," Jarrod said. "But if I need you to do anything, I'll let you know right away. I'm going to try to get this done fast."

"The Nobles may want to be at the trial," Victoria said.

Jarrod nodded. "Yes, they've said so."

"We should be there too," Audra said. "I know we don't know them well, but everybody knew Flynn. We need to be there for them and for Jarrod."

Jarrod smiled at her, proud that her thoughts were about what she could do for others. "For them. Don't you worry about me."

"This isn't gonna be easy, Jarrod," Nick said.

"The legal part isn't going to be as difficult as the personal part," Jarrod said. "I'll be fine. It's the Nobles who are going to need care."

Later at night, as they were turning in, Jarrod turned his attention to Eugene. The youngest Barkley hadn't said much at all about anything, and Jarrod could tell his mother was concerned. As Nick helped Audra up the stairs and Victoria followed, Jarrod brought up the rear with his baby brother. Baby brother. He was no baby anymore. Their father's death had done away with the last little bit of Gene's childhood, but there was still struggling into manhood happening there. Jarrod kept his arm around the boy, asking, "What can I say to you, Gene? Tell me what it is you need to know."

Eugene shook his head. "Nothing. I didn't know Flynn that much. I don't know how I feel."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Jarrod said. "Is this making you think about Father's funeral too much?"

"No," Eugene said. "I just don't know how I feel."

"Or maybe you don't feel anything," Jarrod said. "And you don't know why."

"Maybe," Eugene said.

"Feeling nothing is a reaction, too," Jarrod said. "When something so out of the ordinary happens, it can be tough for it to settle in. It just doesn't seem real, at least not right away."

"Maybe," Eugene said again.

Jarrod realized that Eugene didn't have words to describe this. He gave the boy's shoulders a squeeze. "Just let me know if you need me, if you want to talk."

Eugene just nodded and went into his room.

Jarrod saw his mother standing at the door of her room, watching them. Jarrod gave her a reassuring smile, and she acknowledged it with a smile of her own before she went into her room and closed the door.

Jarrod stood alone in the hallway for a moment, but just a moment. It had been a horrible day, but everyone was settled for now. He had done his job here at home for now. Starting tomorrow, he would have a lot of work to do in town. He needed to get some rest himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

1871

When Jarrod arrived for Pittsfield's arraignment, the next morning at ten, he found the gallery of the courtroom packed with townspeople – very unusual for an arraignment, but then this wasn't just any arraignment. The Nobles were not there, and Jarrod didn't expect them to be. Their son's funeral would be that afternoon. It was far more important than this court formality.

Pittsfield hadn't been brought in yet, nor had his lawyer arrived. Jarrod took the documents he needed out of his briefcase – there weren't many – as he looked around the room. He knew practically everyone there, and while he didn't feel he had anything to smile about, he did try to look confident. The more secure he looked, the more calm would prevail.

He saw three men he didn't know, sitting together in the second row behind the prosecutor's desk. These men looked unusually surly, very rough. They stared at him with something like a challenge in their eyes. Jarrod gave it back.

In a short time, Sheriff Lyman brought Pittsfield in, his lawyer coming along beside him. The lawyer, Steven Copper, was new in town, not that long out of law school, but he looked every bit as comfortable and confident as Jarrod felt. Jarrod hadn't yet had a chance to talk to him but he intended to after the arraignment. Sheriff Lyman deposited Pittsfield with his lawyer at the defense desk and then came to sit down behind Jarrod in the first row.

Jarrod leaned over to the sheriff and said, quietly, "Do you know the three men right behind you?"

Sheriff Lyman said, even more quietly, "Pittsfield's buddies."

Jarrod nodded. There was no indication at all the Pittsfield's friends had been involved in killing Flynn Noble. Jarrod forgot about them once he knew who they were, and the bailiff was announcing, "All rise," anyway.

It took all of two minutes. Pittsfield pled not guilty, trial was set to begin the next Monday, four days away, and then the arraignment was over. Sheriff Lyman took Pittsfield back to jail, and people began to file out. Jarrod stepped closer to Steve Copper, saying, "We need to talk."

"There's not much to say," Copper said. "Pittsfield says he was drunk. He doesn't remember a thing about killing or robbing Noble."

Jarrod said, "He had the boy's watch, and his gun had been fired."

Copper said, "We'll have to see if it holds up, but I expect it will take longer to pick the jury than to try the case."

"I expect you're right," Jarrod said. "Are you calling witnesses?"

"Only Pittsfield. You?"

"Sheriff Lyman. He caught Pittsfield running from the scene and found the watch on him, and determined his gun had been fired. And Dr. Merar. Why didn't you just plead Pittsfield guilty and throw him on the mercy of the court?"

"He wouldn't go for it," Copper said.

Jarrod nodded. He didn't believe the business about Pittsfield being drunk, but it didn't really matter whether he believed it or not. Even if it was true, the physical evidence would be damning, Jarrod knew. "I'm gonna ask for the death penalty, Steve."

"I figured you would," Copper said, and he packed up and left.

XXXXX

The church was full when Jarrod arrived for the funeral, but his family had saved him a seat, and he joined Victoria, Audra and Eugene in the fifth row back. Nick was sitting in the first row with five of the Barkley hands – all pallbearers, Jarrod was certain. The Nobles were sitting in the first row across the aisle from them. The coffin was in the aisle between the Nobles and the pallbearers.

Reverend Johnson came in from the nave and bent to say a few words to the Nobles. Jarrod's heart broke to see Mrs. Noble begin to tremble, her husband putting his arm around her to comfort her. Victoria raised her handkerchief to her eyes, and Jarrod put his arm around her. It was hard for a mother, watching another mother bury her son, not to imagine what it would be like. Jarrod took a look at Audra and Eugene. They looked all right, not crying, not upset, just behaving themselves.

One of the members of the choir was alone in the choir loft, and sang "Abide with Me." The reverend took his place in the pulpit and spoke about loss, about the injustice of the world in taking away such a fine young man as Flynn Noble, about the comfort he hoped the Nobles could take knowing that this church was filled with people who loved them and would support them. Then he talked about how the justice system would take charge now, and he leveled his gaze, with a smile, on Jarrod.

It was hard for Jarrod not to feel the pressure, the weight of everyone's hopes for justice falling on his shoulders, but he had been in this place before. When his mother squeezed his hand, he squeezed hers back. He was all right. He knew his job and he would do it to the best of his ability, confidently.

The reverend gave all the proper words of comfort, sanctity, and benediction. He read several passages from the bible. Then the choir member sang again, "God Be With You," one of Flynn's favorite hymns, as the pallbearers rose and carried the coffin out to the churchyard. Reverend Johnson escorted the Nobles out, and everyone followed along.

The service at the gravesite was brief, and as the pallbearers lowered Flynn Noble into the ground, Alice Noble fell apart again. When he saw James beginning to tremble as he held her, Jarrod came forward to support them both, putting his arms around them. They stayed where they were as the crowd dispersed. Victoria, Audra and Eugene came forward as well. Nick sent the other pallbearers back to their jobs and joined his family.

They stayed like that for a long time, long after all the people and had left, until the gravedigger had completely filled in the grave and gone away. Reverend Johnson gave a soft pat on the shoulder to Alice Noble. James nodded his thanks.

Then James Noble looked up at Jarrod and asked, "What can we do to help you?"

Jarrod was stunned by the question, but then realized he shouldn't have been. What the Nobles needed now was justice, and Jarrod was the one to lead them there. He shook his head. "We have what we need. The trial will start Monday morning at ten. Just let me know if you decide to come, so that I can have a place saved for you to sit."

"I don't think I can come," Alice Noble said.

Jarrod said, "Don't feel that you have to. Make up your mind on Monday. Whatever you decide, I'll go on and try this case the same. I'll do the very best I can."

Alice reached for Jarrod's hand and squeezed it. "We know you will, Jarrod."

Nick came forward. He had brought the Nobles into town in the Barkley surrey. Victoria had brought Audra and Eugene in the buggy. "Are you ready to go now?" Nick asked.

Victoria said, "We'll come home with you, see that you're comfortable. There are bound to be people coming to bring food and be with you for a while."

Alice nodded. "You're so kind, Victoria. We haven't even known each other all that well – " She didn't have any words anymore.

Victoria said, "We all knew Flynn. We all treasured the things he did for people around town. We all loved him."

Nick looked up at Jarrod, silently asking what his plans were. Jarrod said, "I've got work to start on. I'll be along home but it'll be late. I want justice for these people, Nick. I want a good trial."

Nick just nodded and guided the Nobles out, back to the surrey.

Jarrod waited alone by the grave for a few moments. It was odd, but somehow he felt as if Flynn Noble was trying to tell him something, trying to pass on some strength. Jarrod silently spoke to the boy, telling him he would look after his parents and he would make sure the man who put him in this grave paid for his crime. Somehow, Flynn Noble seemed content.

_Damn, what a horrible waste of a good young life_, Jarrod thought.

XXXXXXX

1877

As they rode along and Nick related the story, Heath tried hard not to let the past break his heart, but Flynn Noble had been his own age. He found himself wondering if he had reminded the Nobles of their son, that night he turned up on their doorstep with a bullet wound in the leg. He remembered their complete kindness, their tenderness toward him and toward each other. He remembered how they took care of his leg and insisted he stay with them at least overnight. He remembered how he had actually fallen in love with them.

And the sweet couple he knew had somehow grown out of this horrible, unbelievable crime Nick was describing. Heath had seen many awful things go by in his life and travels. He had seen people recover, and not recover, from dreadful fates handed to them. But this, this ripping away of this good couple's only child. This made Heath feel beaten up from the inside out.

Which made him remember what Dr. Merar had told him about that time six years ago. "How did Jarrod manage to get beaten up back then?"

Nick growled. "Those three friends of Pittsfields," he said. "It happened right away, that very night. Jarrod had been working late trying to get a start on preparing for the trial….."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

1871

It was nearly eleven when Jarrod checked his watch. He had been working from his own office and completely lost track of time. He repocketed his watch and rubbed his eyes before he got up, stiff from sitting for too long. He closed the file on his desk and just left it there, knowing he'd be back to it first thing in the morning.

He had not brought his gunbelt to town today, thinking he would be better off without it. He donned his hat and went out, locking the door behind him. There wouldn't be anyone at the livery at this hour, so getting his horse ready to head home would be up to him. The pall of the day still hung over the street. This town was grief stricken for the Nobles, so grief stricken that the saloons were already going quiet. Jarrod spotted Sheriff Lyman making his rounds, walking away from him as he turned to head to the livery stable.

He was still plotting out the case in his mind when he went into the livery stable and headed for the stall where his horse was waiting. That was when he was jumped.

They didn't knock him down. Somebody just grabbed him, spun him around and slammed him back against a post. In a moment, without any words, someone was pounding him hard in the midsection, stealing his breath away. Another man and then another took over pounding him. Jarrod tried to get a kick in, but one of the punches had hit him in the diaphragm, paralyzing it, making it impossible for him to take a breath or even move in his own defense. They kept hitting him. He felt his ribs crush.

One of the men smashed him hard on the left side of his face, and he went down in the dirt. But even then they didn't let up. In a moment all three men were kicking him, kicking him hard. The world started to disappear into flashing lights and then darkness, and Jarrod heard the only words they said. "Lose this case, lawyer," one rough voice said, "or there will be more."

Then it was over. Jarrod finally managed to gulp a breath of air that brought his sense back around in time for him to get a look at who had just beaten him, but he was hurt and he knew it. He had broken ribs at least, and maybe a cracked cheekbone. He tried to get up, but the pain in his midsection knotted up like paper that was shriveling up in a fire. He struggled to his knees, coughing, suddenly frightened that a broken rib had punctured a lung.

He hurt and he could barely make it to his feet, but there was no one around to help him, and he couldn't find enough breath to yell. He finally stumbled up, fell toward the door and finally out into the street. He could see lights from the saloons but there was no one around the livery stable to help him, no one at all. He staggered from hitching rail to hitching rail, heading for the doctor's office. There was no light on there, but the doctor lived above his office and Jarrod knew he could wake him – assuming he was not out on a call. Jarrod knew he had to take the chance. He needed help, he needed a doctor. He was coughing and he was tasting blood and he was scared.

He made it to the door of the doctor's place and fell up against it. He pounded as hard as he could, over and over, and finally the door opened and he fell into the strong arms he knew belonged to Dr. Merar. "Sorry, Doctor," he said as best his could as Dr. Merar pulled him inside.

"Jarrod!" Dr. Merar said, pulling him further in. "What happened?"

Dr. Merar's wife was already lighting a lamp in the treatment room. Dr. Merar pulled Jarrod in there and put him on the table as gently as he could.

"I took a beating," Jarrod said. "Ribs mostly. I'm afraid I might have punctured a lung."

"Don't talk," Dr. Merar said, looked at the rip on Jarrod's cheek and decided it wasn't dangerous. Then he removed Jarrod's tie, opened his coat and shirt, took a look, and began to probe his midsection carefully, gently.

Jarrod grunted and groaned. "I have to. I got a quick look at them. It was Pittsfield's friends. They told me to lose the case."

"Don't talk," the doctor told him again.

Mrs. Merar carefully cleaned the blood away from Jarrod's mouth. Dr. Merar took another look once she had.

"You've bitten the inside of your mouth," Dr. Merar said. "That's where the blood is coming from. Hold still and don't talk anymore."

Jarrod did as he was told, only crying out once or twice when the doctor probed a sore spot. Jarrod's abdomen was already beginning to turn purple and blue. Jarrod's head was beginning to spin again even though he was lying down.

The doctor examined him completely and finally said, "I don't think you've punctured a lung, at least not yet. Are you dizzy?"

"A bit," Jarrod said. "Not bad."

"I'm going to try to get you up and tape those ribs," Dr. Merar said. He nodded to his wife, and together, they got Jarrod up into a sitting position, his legs over the edge of the table. They took his jacket and shirt off, and Mrs. Merar set them aside.

But God, it hurt. Jarrod sat as straight as he could to ease the pain in his midsection, and he groaned. Dr. Merar eased him to standing so he'd be straighter, letting him sit back against the table slightly. He wordlessly went about taping Jarrod up tightly, his wife helping, Jarrod as straight as he could get. He had to admit, taping was helping.

"You took a beating, but it's not as bad as it could have been," Dr. Merar said as he finished the job and began to put Jarrod's shirt back on. "Iva, would you go find the sheriff?"

"Oh, no, no," Jarrod protested. "I'm not having your missus go out onto that street."

"You're not going yourself," Dr. Merar said.

"Yes, I am," Jarrod said. "If my friends are still out there, it's me they're going to deal with, not your good wife." Jarrod reached for Mrs. Merar's hand and gave it a pat.

They helped him get his jacket back on. Jarrod left his tie off and his shirt half buttoned. He stayed leaning back against the table to let the world stop spinning.

"You can't go home in this shape," Dr. Merar said. "Riding a horse could send you into a lung puncture."

"I'll go to the hotel after I talk to the sheriff," Jarrod said. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything foolish – unless the men who did this to me go after me again. Then I'm gonna hit back."

"Don't you come reeling back in here, Jarrod Barkley, or I will be sending for your mother."

"Well, now, that's a threat I'll take to heart," Jarrod said with as good a laugh as he could muster. He gave Dr. Merar's arm a pat and stood up on his feet, away from the table. He felt stable and able to walk. "Don't worry. There may not be anyone waiting to beat me up any more. I'm going to find the sheriff and go straight to bed. Harry can deal with my attackers."

"You come back and see me sometime tomorrow," Dr. Merar said. "That taping's probably going to work loose."

Jarrod nodded. "Understood. Good night, Doctor, Mrs. Merar," and out of habit he reached to tip the hat he was not wearing. He realized it was probably over on the livery stable floor, but he wouldn't let it concern him tonight.

"Stubborn Barkleys – " Jarrod heard Dr. Merar muttering as he went out the door.

At first he felt stronger with every step, but he was still in a lot of pain that started to sap the strength away before he made it very far down the street. He was glad to see a light on at the sheriff's office and headed straight there, forced to grab the hitching rail in front for support before he went in. When he went in, he found Sheriff Lyman at his desk.

The sheriff looked up at him, and immediately stood up at the sight of him. Jarrod was slumping over, a nasty bruise rising up on the side of his face, blood at the corner of his mouth. The sheriff said, "What the hell happened to you?" and got him to a chair.

"I took a beating," Jarrod said. "It was Pittsfield's friends, all three of them. They told me to lose the case."

"You're sure?"

Jarrod nodded. "I'm sure. I'll sign the papers in the morning, but you go find them and arrest them tonight. I want to see them in your jail when I come in tomorrow."

"I just saw them in Harry's saloon," the sheriff said. "You're not gonna make it home in this shape."

Jarrod shook his head. "I'm going to the hotel."

"Have you been to the doctor?"

"I just came from there. I'll be a lot better in the morning." He started to get up.

"Let me help you to the hotel," the sheriff said, taking him by the arm to support him.

Jarrod gave him an uncomfortable grin. "You go pick up my buddies. I'll make it to the hotel just fine."

"I can at least get you across the street," Sheriff Lyman said.

Jarrod let the sheriff help him across the street. The hotel was to the left then, Harry's saloon to the right. Jarrod insisted he could make it to the hotel on his own and the sheriff let him go, but kept an eye on him until he saw him go into the building. Then he went to Harry's saloon.

Inside the hotel, the desk clerk was packing it in for the night, but he took one look at Jarrod and came rushing to help him. "Mr. Barkley! What happened?"

"A bit of a disagreement," Jarrod said. "Can you give me a room for the night?"

The clerk helped Jarrod lean up against the desk while he went around and fetched a key. "I hope you can make it up the stairs."

"I'll make it," Jarrod said.

"Shall I get the doctor?" the clerk asked as he helped Jarrod to the steps.

"I already saw him," Jarrod said. "I look a lot better than I did," he said with a little grin, becoming a little self-conscious with all the worry and attention he was attracting.

The clerk got him to his room, and Jarrod laid himself down on the bed right away. The clerk pulled Jarrod's boots off and set them on the floor.

"Don't fuss anymore," Jarrod said. "I'm just gonna go to sleep. See somebody wakes me about seven in the morning, all right?"

"I'll wake you myself," the clerk said, and leaving the room said, "Get some sleep, Mr. Barkley," and then closed the door.

"Yeah," Jarrod sighed to no one in the dark. He hurt and he was dizzy again, but now at least he was in a bed, and despite the pain and the anger that was starting to rise up inside, he fell asleep fast without getting out of his clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

1877

Nick said, "We didn't exactly worry when Jarrod didn't come home that night. We figured he was just working too late. But Mother asked me to go into town the next morning and make sure he was okay. I got there about eight and got worried when I couldn't find him, but I went over to the sheriff's office, and there he was. And he really didn't look all that bad. He was dressed and even if he wasn't shaved and was a little stiff moving around, it wasn't all that bad. He just looked like he'd spent the night on the sofa in his office."

"Who told you about the beating?" Heath asked.

Nick snorted. "It wasn't him. He wouldn't have said a word. The sheriff just flat out told me as Jarrod was trying to get out the door and go to his office."

"I'll bet that didn't sit well with you," Heath said.

"You've already figured out how he is, Heath," Nick said. "He doesn't like to worry us, so he keeps things to himself, no matter how much we rail at him about it. I read him the riot act and he said, 'Sure, Nick,' and then went right on doing what he was going to do anyway."

Heath had to chuckle. "How did Mother take that when you told her?"

"I didn't tell her," Nick said. "I just told her Jarrod spent the night in town and he'd tell her about it when he got home, and then when he got home that evening I told him the explanations were up to him."

"What did he tell her? Do you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I watched and listened….."

XXXXXXX

1871

They were about to settle into drinks together. Victoria and Nick were the only ones there when Jarrod came in from town, the younger children still upstairs getting themselves together for dinner. Nick hadn't said anything to Victoria about Jarrod getting beaten up, though Victoria was pretty sure from his demeanor that something had happened to keep Jarrod from coming home the night before. Rather than press Nick, Victoria saved her curiosity for her older son, who came in looking unshaven, moving a bit stiffly, sporting a bruise and a cut on his cheek that had looked worse as the day went on.

Victoria gave him a kiss, noting he did not bend over to her as much as he usually did. "You got into a fight," she said flat out.

Jarrod looked at Nick, who just shook his head to tell him he hadn't said anything. "Not really a fight," Jarrod said.

"Then really what?" Victoria asked.

Nick began to grin. Big brother was not going to get away with saying nothing. Nick was reminded of being kids again, caught by their mother in something she didn't like. Victoria always dug the truth out of them.

So Jarrod gave it up. "I was jumped by Mr. Pittsfield's friends. They worked me over and told me to lose the case. Which, of course, I'm not going to do."

"Of course not," Victoria said. "How bad is it?"

"Cracked ribs, this little bit on my face, that's all," Jarrod said. "The doctor said not to ride home, so I stayed at the hotel." He tried to soft-pedal it.

"What are you going to do now?" Victoria asked.

"My job," Jarrod said. "I already had the men who attacked me arrested. They'll be arraigned tomorrow. Nobody else is going to bother me, and I still have a murder trial starting Monday. The Nobles still need to be taken care of."

Victoria sighed, sitting down on the settee. "When I asked you to become a lawyer, it never occurred to me that the job would be so dangerous." This wasn't the first time he'd been beaten up for doing his job.

Jarrod fetched a scotch and sat down in his thinking chair. He gave her a smile. "A beating now and then is no worse trouble than Nick gets into."

Victoria looked up at Nick standing by the mantle, then back at Jarrod. "As long as you're all right."

"I'm fine," Jarrod assured her. "How are the Nobles?"

Victoria sighed again. "They had plenty of visitors after the funeral yesterday. They'd have enough food to last for a month but since most of it would spoil they had me and the children take a lot of it to the orphanage. It'll get eaten."

"Did you go over there today?" Jarrod asked.

Victoria nodded. "They were trying to get back into some kind of normalcy. Alice was cleaning. I offered to help, but she wanted to do it herself. James did his regular chores – and Flynn's."

Nick said, "Did they say anything about coming to the trial?"

"No," Victoria said. "But I think they probably will come. Are you going to be ready, Jarrod?"

Jarrod nodded. "I pretty much already am."

"Are you going to ask for the death penalty?"

Jarrod nodded solemnly. He never took the death penalty lightly. "Yes," he said.

"And you think he'll get it."

"Yes," Jarrod said again.

Victoria sighed. "The waste. The futility and the waste."

Audra and Eugene came down then, interrupting the serious discussion, and Audra and Eugene immediately noticed Jarrod's face. Eugene asked flat out, "Who hit you?"

"Somebody who was mad at me," Jarrod said and left it at that.

And that seemed to be a good enough explanation. The conversation drifted away from the Nobles and murder and getting beaten up and into more mundane things like homework from school. Dinner was pleasant and delicious, and when he went to bed Jarrod half thought he was going to get away without having to say anything more about the beating he'd taken, but just as he got his shirt off, as if she had been watching through the keyhole, Victoria knocked on his door. Jarrod gave a resigned grin. "Come in."

Victoria came in, Nick right behind her. They took one look at the tape around Jarrod's midsection and the bruising that the tape didn't cover, and Victoria sighed. "That doesn't look good," she said.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said. "Don't worry. The perpetrators are in jail, and I'll be fine in a few days. It'll just take a while for the ribs to heal and the bruises to go away."

"There's something I wanted you to know," Victoria said. "I didn't want to talk about it in front of the children, but you said you were going to ask for the death penalty for this Pittsfield fellow. I know you don't like doing that as a rule, but I wanted you to know I talked to Alice Noble about it today."

Jarrod wasn't sure how the Nobles would feel about seeing Pittsfield hanged. They were a gentle couple, and Jarrod wondered how they were going to take his decision. "What did she say?"

"They're very ambivalent, but of course, it's still so soon after Flynn was killed. They're having trouble sorting out their basic nature with their anger about losing their son. The shock is wearing off. The anger is coming out and they wanted to talk about what you might be planning to do."

Jarrod nodded. He had seen this before. When people lost someone the loved to violence, there were always a few days or maybe only hours of numbness, then anger that could really explode or just rumble underneath, then some kind of resolution further down the line when reality set in. "What do you think I should do for them?" he asked.

"Your job," Nick said. "Like you've said, that's what they need – a trial, a conviction, justice."

Victoria said. "Use your best judgment and explain things to them, but keep your course steady. They're going to be very unsteady for quite a while."

Jarrod nodded. "That's what I intend to do."

"I wouldn't let them know you've been beaten up if you can help it," Nick said.

"I don't know how far it's already gotten around town. The sheriff hauled my attackers out of a saloon last night and by now everyone knows why."

"That doesn't mean James and Alice know," Victoria said. "It's a complication they don't need to deal with if we can keep it from them. It would just make them angrier and guiltier."

"Guiltier?"

"When you lose someone you love, you can't help be feel a bit of guilt about it. Guilt that you didn't protect them. Guilt that you're still alive and they're not."

Jarrod understood. He'd felt it himself when his father was killed. He'd seen it in his mother and brother, too, and in other people, even though until his mother mentioned it, he hadn't thought about it happening to the Nobles. He nodded. "I'll talk to them about my beating if they ask but I'll keep it light and go easy on the details."

"Are you going to ask either one of them to testify?"

"No. Did they ask about that?"

"No. But be ready for James to ask. He might do that even at the last minute. He might want to be heard."

"I'll remember that," Jarrod said, then he kissed his mother on the forehead. "Try not to worry. We'll get through this. The Nobles will get through it. They're good, strong people."

"Good strong people break too, Jarrod," Victoria reminded him.

Jarrod didn't need reminding.

Victoria went out, but Nick lingered for a moment. Jarrod just looked his way and said, "What?"

"How bad are you really hurt?" Nick asked.

"Not bad," Jarrod said. "Just ribs. Don't worry, Nick. The men who beat me up are locked up and I'm all right."

"Yeah, you look just beautiful," Nick said, eying the bruises he could see that weren't covered by the tape. "You let me know if I can do anything to help you on this. If you need a guard – "

"I don't need a guard," Jarrod said. "There's no danger for me anymore. You just help Mother and the kids and the Nobles where you can."

Nick nodded. "Consider it done."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

1877

Heath said, "I can't imagine the Nobles getting bloodthirsty. They just don't seem like the types."

"You know how it is, Heath," Nick said. "Good, strong people break, too. But Mother told them she had a talk with Jarrod and was sure he was gonna be able to get them through this trial."

"What happened to the guys who beat Jarrod up? The Nobles said they went to prison."

"Yeah," Nick said, "with just a little bit of fuss."

1871

Pittsfield's buddies were led in to their arraignment, but the courtroom was blessedly empty this time. Jarrod wasn't looking forward to a lot of fanfare over his injuries, not in front of a lot of people. There would have to be some at the trial, but that was not going to happen before Pittsfield's trial was over. Jarrod knew he'd have a little time to heal. Right now, sitting in the gallery behind the District Attorney who would be handling the case, Jarrod was just uncomfortable. His ribs hurt, and it was never comfortable to be sitting down, folded in the middle, when you were taped up.

The District Attorney unloaded his briefcase, then turned and leaned over to Jarrod in the front row. "I need to talk to you. Come on up here, would you?"

Jarrod got up and passed the bar to the prosecution table just as the three men who had beaten him up were brought in by Sheriff Lyman and their lawyer, Steve Copper again. Jarrod turned his back on them and listened to the what the District Attorney had to say.

"I made them an offer," he said very quietly. "Five years in San Quentin for assaulting a court officer. I told them if we had to try the case and they were found guilty, I'd ask for ten or even more."

"Did they take it?" Jarrod asked.

"I don't know yet. How do you feel about it?"

"I'm all right with five years if they're hauled out of here right away. But I'd rather see ten."

"Well, we'll see what they do," the DA said.

Jarrod went back to his seat and sat down, his midsection giving him a nasty twinge as he did. He fought not to let it show, but the judge was entering and he had to stand right back up again. It hurt. Judge Farnham noticed.

The arraignment didn't take long. Jarrod held his breath a little when the judge asked how the men pleaded, but he wasn't really all that surprised when they each said, "Not guilty, your honor."

1877

"What happened after that?" Heath asked.

"They went to trial after Pittsfield's trial was over," Nick said. "The trial didn't last long at all. They were convicted and got ten years. I guess they're still in San Quentin."

"So then I guess it was time for Jarrod to be getting to work on the Pittsfield trial."

"He'd been working the whole time, coming home late. Mother had to talk him into coming to church with us on Sunday. She put her foot down."

Heath chuckled. "I'll bet that hurt as much as the beating did."

Nick laughed a bit, too. "It was good that he came, though. The Nobles were there. People were coming up to them, consoling them, and then they were coming up to Jarrod, too. Word had spread about him getting beat up. I don't know if the Nobles ever did hear about it, but a lot of other people did and told him to stick to his guns."

"Knowing Brother Jarrod, he didn't really need the pep talk."

"No, but he appreciated it. And when the service was over and we were outside getting ready to leave, the Nobles came up to him and said they wanted to talk to him about the trial. He took them off to the graveyard for some privacy. They sat down on the bench there and talked for a long time. We actually went home without him."

"Did you ever find out what they said?"

Nick nodded. "A bit. It wasn't confidential. He talked to Mother and me about it when he got home."

1871

Jarrod walked the Nobles to the little bench in the graveyard beside the church, where they all sat down. The bench wasn't near Flynn's grave, but they could see it clearly about a hundred feet away, the dirt over it still fresh and brown, the stone not in place yet. The Nobles stared at it for a long time.

Jarrod was reluctant to start the conversation, wanting to give them control of it, but eventually he said, "Tell me what I can do for you."

Alice Noble had tears in her eyes. "That's the trouble, Jarrod. We don't know."

Jarrod waited for more. James Noble said, "You've known us for a long time, Jarrod. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together, and we've never talked about it, but you know we've never been people who've asked for an eye for an eye, not when it would mean hanging a man. But – " He stopped.

"But now you're not sure," Jarrod said.

"Do you plan to ask for the man to hang?" Alice asked.

Jarrod nodded. "Yes. I think I have to."

"Why?" Alice asked.

James quickly jumped in. "Jarrod, I don't want you to misunderstand anything. Alice and I are not sure what we want, because she doesn't want the man to hang, and I do."

Jarrod straightened up a bit, partly to get his ribs more comfortable but mostly because he hadn't expected the Nobles to be of two different minds on this. Jarrod took hold of Alice's hands and squeezed them. "You ask me why I think I have to ask for the death penalty, Alice. I think you know me well enough to know I don't favor it as a rule either. I should tell you that Pittsfield is claiming he was drunk and has no memory of killing Flynn, but the evidence says he did, and I am certain he will be found guilty if he doesn't change his plea to guilty. But why am I asking he hang? Because he killed Flynn for two dollars and a pocket watch. I can't let this man get back out onto the street, ever."

Alice looked at her husband. James said, "I'm not sure Alice and I will ever agree on this, Jarrod, and it's not like we want to put even more pressure on you, so we've talked it out and we've decided that whatever you choose to do, whether you ask for a hanging or change your mind when you get to trial, we will support you. We trust you to do what's best."

Jarrod swallowed, nodding, saying, "Thank you. That means the world to me. Do you plan to come to the trial?"

"We don't know about that yet, either," James said. "I want to. Alice isn't sure."

Jarrod squeezed her hands. "Then trust me with this advice, too. Decide tomorrow morning whether you want to come or not, and if you come and you feel like you have to leave at any time, then just leave. Let me explain how it works. We'll pick the jury first, then the jury will hear the evidence and decide if Pittsfield is guilty or not guilty. If he's found guilty – and I believe he will be – the next part of the trial will be his sentencing. That's when I would ask for the sentence I think is appropriate." Jarrod squeezed her hands one more time, then looked at James, then Alice, then James again. "I don't intend this to put any pressure at all on you, but I don't think you should testify at the guilt or innocence part of the trial. I think it would be too tough on you, and it's not really pertinent to that part anyway. Where it would be pertinent is in the sentencing part of the trial. That's the part where the judge and the jury want to hear what the family of the victim has to say, but it's not something you absolutely have to do. If you feel the need to get up from that trial at any time and walk away for good, you do it. If you decide to stay, we can decide what you say at sentencing, if you want to say anything. And that includes if you make up your minds that you don't want Pittsfield to hang. Even if I recommend it but you find yourself unable to agree with it and have to say so, you say so. None of this is about me. This is all about you now, you having whatever say you feel you need to have."

Alice suddenly smiled, wept more, and buried her head into Jarrod's shoulder. He held her to him. "Thank you, Jarrod," she said.

James reached for Jarrod's hand, and shook it.

"You get some rest today and sleep well tonight," Jarrod said. "If you come to the trial, I'll see you there, and I'll see you afterward no matter what, no matter whether you're there or you go home. I won't leave you dangling alone."

Alice raised her head and kissed Jarrod on his good cheek. If she or James even noticed the bruise on his left cheek, if they even knew about the beating he'd taken, he didn't know and never knew. It wasn't important. They were what was important now, justice for them and for Flynn.

When he got home that afternoon, Nick was still at the house. Audra and Eugene had gone off somewhere riding, so Jarrod had time alone to explain to Victoria and Nick what he happened with the Nobles, and what would happen tomorrow at the trial. When he was finished, Victoria kissed him on his good cheek. "Get some rest today, darling. It might be a long day tomorrow."

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't think so. If this trial takes any longer than a couple hours, jury selection included, I'll be surprised."

"Regardless, we'll be there," Nick said.

Jarrod nodded and said, surprisingly to his mother and brother, "I think you ought to bring Audra and Eugene, too. They're growing up. They need some exposure to this kind of thing. Life handed it to them a bit when Father was killed, but they didn't get to see what the rest of justice can look like. I know Audra said she wants to come."

"It could be messy," Nick said.

"It always is," Jarrod said. "I'll leave it to you, Mother, but if you and Nick are coming, I think they need to come, too."

Victoria nodded. "I think you're right. They need to see how it works, and they need to see what their big brother has to do with it."

Jarrod nodded gratefully and said, "They'll see my best. I promise you that."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

1871

Jarrod went into town earlier than his family did on the morning of the trial. He had to get his things together from his own office, then go by the District Attorney's office to touch base with the DA. Everyone in the office wished him luck, although no one was worried that he would really need it.

Jarrod went to the courtroom about ten minutes prior to the time the trial was scheduled to start. The place was packed, mostly with men who were part of the jury pool but a crowd was also waiting outside to see if they could get in, once the number of jurors was whittled down to twelve. Jarrod saw his family in the third row behind the prosecution desk, all dressed in their best and smiling softly toward him. Jarrod was pleased to see Audra and Eugene there, and he hoped this would be a good experience for them. He knew he'd be explaining a lot of things and answering a lot of their questions when it was over, but he was actually looking forward to that.

Steve Copper came in about five minutes later and shook hands with Jarrod. "Any chance your man will plead guilty?" Jarrod asked.

Copper shook his head. "He says he doesn't remember killing the Noble boy, and that's how he'll testify."

"All right," Jarrod said with a sigh. "You know I'm planning to ask for the death penalty."

Copper nodded. "Pittsfield knows it too."

Jarrod looked around for the Nobles then, not really hoping one way or another that he'd see them or not. They were not there. Maybe they'd come in later, he thought, but maybe they had decided to stay away.

It was only minutes later that Sheriff Lyman brought the defendant in, shackled. Murmurs went around the room, but then the bailiff called, "All rise," and everyone stood up as Judge Farnham came in. He had the case called. The lawyers entered their appearances, and then Judge Farnham explained the procedure to the jury pool. Jury selection began with some general questions, the lawyers at the bench with the prospective jurors who answered the questions in ways that called for more private explanations. One by one, about ten men were excused on the general questions, and most of them went back to their seats to stay for the trial.

Then came the strikes that either of the attorneys could make without cause, and ultimately, after nearly an hour, a jury of twelve men was seated. Jarrod knew most of them one way or another – through church, through civic groups, through personal business. He was happy with the group. He noticed Audra in particular leaning over to talk to Victoria several times. Jarrod hoped she was asking good questions. Eugene just watched.

And Pittsfield just watched, not looking at anyone, focused apparently on a knothole in the wood veneer on the front of the judge's bench. The man hardly even blinked.

There were brief opening statements, Jarrod being as tight as he could, emphasizing the sheriff arresting the defendant and finding the pocket watch on him, and finding his gun had been fired. Jarrod hit that over and over again, several times, before summing up that even though there were no eyewitnesses to the crime, the physical evidence condemned the defendant. Steve Copper gave the defense's position, and there was only one surprise in it. Pittsfield was going to testify that he had found the pocket watch in the street, and he had just fired his gun into the air because he was drunk and happy that he had found the watch. Jarrod realized this was a brand new notion Pittsfield had come up with. He intended to bring that out when he cross-examinined the man. Copper looked like he was not happy about the change in testimony, but he was resigned to letting Pittsfield have his say. Jarrod had no idea if Copper would try to rehabilitate the story if he, Jarrod, was able to tear it apart.

And then the Judge called on Jarrod to call his first witness. Jarrod had only two. First came Sheriff Lyman, who testified to hearing the shot fired – only one shot - then rushing to where he found Flynn Noble in the street. No one was around except for Pittsfield, whom the sheriff saw slipping into shadows in an alley. A few other men had come running and stayed with Flynn as the sheriff went after Pittsfield. Pittsfield ran, but not far before the sheriff caught up to him. The sheriff found Pittsfield holding Flynn's pocket watch. He checked Pittsfield's gun and found it had just been fired.

Copper started off his cross-examination with, "Sheriff, did you at any time see the defendant with the deceased?"

"Depends on how you define 'with'," the sheriff said.

"Within twenty feet," Copper suggested.

"No," the sheriff said.

"Within fifty feet?"

"No," the sheriff admitted. Then he slipped in, "I found him about seventy-five feet away."

Copper let that stand, even though he didn't want it in there. He knew he would just look like he was trying to obfuscate things if he tried to get it stricken. "Did you at any time see the defendant fire his gun?" he asked.

"No," the sheriff said. "The shooting was over when I got there."

"Did you at any time see the defendant shoot the deceased?"

"No."

"Did you at any time see him pick up the pocket watch, either from the deceased or from out of the street?"

"No."

"Sheriff, did you detect anything about the defendant that indicated he had been drinking?"

"Yes, he smelled of alcohol."

"He wreaked of alcohol, didn't he?"

"I don't know that I'd say 'wreaked.' He had alcohol breath on him."

"Was he drunk?"

"I wouldn't say so. He understood me when I told him I was arresting him."

And that was it. Jarrod was a little startled that Copper had no more questions, but he quickly went to his redirect. "Sheriff, who else was around the area where you found the deceased and the defendant?"

"Not a soul," the sheriff said.

"Where was the watch when you found the defendant?"

"In his hand."

"And you checked his gun at this time to see if it had been fired?"

"Yes, and it had."

"Did the defendant say anything about why he had fired it?"

"Not a word."

"Did the defendant seem unsteady or did he stagger when he walked?"

"No. He was steady."

"Would you have arrested him for being drunk in public?"

"Objection," Copper said. "Calls for speculation."

"It calls for a description of the defendant's physical state. A legitimate question to ask of a sheriff, Your Honor, given the evidence thus far," Jarrod said.

"Overruled," the judge said.

Sheriff Lyman said, "No, he wasn't so drunk I'd have arrested him."

That was the end of Sheriff Lyman's testimony. Jarrod followed up with Dr. Merar, who had examined Flynn. He described the boy's fatal injuries, and described pronouncing him dead. His testimony was brief, and Copper had no questions for him.

And that was the State's case, all over in less than fifteen minutes.

Copper began his case and called the defendant to the stand. The only question he asked wasn't a question. He said, "Tell us what happened, Mr. Pittsfield."

"I don't remember it all that well," Pittsfield said, a poor start. "I was good and drunk when I left the saloon. I remember heading down the street and the next think I knew I heard a shot. I went that way and never even saw the fella that was killed. I spotted something in the streetlight, on the ground, and picked it up and it was this watch. I was drunk and I got happy and I got stupid and fired my gun off into the air. Then next thing I know I see this man coming after me and I tried to run but he caught up and it was the sheriff and he arrested me and said I killed this boy and took the watch off him."

"Did you kill this boy?" Copper asked.

"No, sir," Pittsfield said. "I never got anywhere near him."

Again, unexpectedly quickly, Copper finished his examination. Jarrod normally stood up when he questioned witnesses but he stayed seated this time. It was an expression of contempt, of not thinking Pittsfield was worth going after. Jarrod asked, "You say you were drunk."

"Yes, sir," Pittsfield said.

"You said you were 'good and drunk,'" Jarrod said.

"Yes, sir," Pittsfield said.

"And you don't remember things all that well, isn't that what you said?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, sir."

"How much money did you have on you at the time?"

"Money? I don't really remember."

"Hadn't you been playing poker?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, sir," Pittsfield said.

"Hadn't you lost a lot of money?"

"I lost some."

"You lost most if not all of your money, didn't you?" Jarrod had no witness to back that up, but it really didn't matter.

Because Pittsfield said, "I don't remember."

"You were too drunk to remember, is that what you're saying?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You were too drunk to remember almost anything you did that night, weren't you? As you said, you were good and drunk."

Pittsfield hesitated, but said, "I was drunk."

"Yet you're testifying that you remember picking up the watch from out of the street and firing your gun in celebration, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Pittsfield said.

"And you never mentioned anything about either finding the watch or shooting your gun off until this morning – isn't that true?"

"Well, I don't remember what I said – "

"Isn't it true, Mr. Pittsfield, that you never said anything about finding the watch or shooting your gun off before today?" Jarrod said, louder.

"I don't – I don't remember – "

"No further questions," Jarrod said abruptly, having made his point.

Copper rested his case.

Jarrod called the sheriff on rebuttal and asked, "You testified that on the night of the shooting you found the defendant with the watch in his hand, is that correct?"

"Yes," the sheriff said.

Jarrod looked at the jury as he asked, "On that night or at any other time, did the defendant say anything to you about how it had gotten there, specifically that he had picked it up out of the street?"

"No, not a word, at any time."

Jarrod had no further questions, and Copper did not follow up.

"Very well," the judge said. "We'll recess for ten minutes and then have closing argument. Gentlemen, do I have your requested jury instructions?"

Both Jarrod and Copper said yes. The judge banged his gavel, got up, and left as everyone else did. As Jarrod turned to look at his family, he saw James and Alice Noble had come in. They were sitting with the Barkleys, looking at him. Alice had tears in her eyes. James had gratitude in his.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

1871

Both closing arguments were incredibly short and almost sterile of much emotion. Jarrod set out the facts he'd proven, Copper stated repeatedly that Pittsfield denied killing the boy and found the watch in the street and shot his gun off in jubilation. Then, Jarrod had at his rebuttal.

"Gentlemen," he said quietly. "The defendant claims he was drunk. Take that for what it's worth – and here's what it's worth. You can't believe anything the defendant says, not one word. What you can take as fact – as flat out, undisputed fact – is that the sheriff ran to the scene when he heard a shot – remember this! One shot, only one! And he found the defendant and only the defendant in the vicinity, only seventy-five feet away. And when he approached the defendant, the sheriff found him with Flynn Noble's watch on him, and his gun fired. The defendant claims he found the watch in the street and fired off his gun joyously when he found it, and I submit to you that both statements are flatly incredible. He made them up this morning! The sheriff heard one shot – only one shot! The shot that killed Flynn Noble, the shot that was fired from the defendant's gun! The judge will tell you that the evidence must show that the defendant robbed and killed Flynn Noble beyond a reasonable doubt, and I put to you that the evidence is much stronger than that! The defendant robbed and killed Flynn Noble in brutal cold blood, for a pocket watch and a couple of dollars! He took the life of a fine young man, a fine young citizen of Stockton, the fine young son of your neighbors, and the State has proven that beyond any reasonable doubt! You must find the defendant guilty in this case. There is simply no other verdict that will withstand scrutiny. This man – " Jarrod pointed to the defendant. "This man has no defense whatsoever. You've heard it all today. There is no other verdict you can return, other than guilty."

Jarrod left it at that. The judge went straight to the jury instructions, and in a few moments, the jury was led out to deliberate. The judge left the courtroom as everyone stood up. The defendant was led back to jail, his lawyer following along, and Jarrod turned with a great sigh of escaping energy to face his family and the Nobles.

James Noble reached him first, holding out his hand. "Thank you," he said, and he had no other words.

Alice Noble took Jarrod by the arms and kissed his cheek.

"Will you be staying for the verdict?" Jarrod asked.

James nodded. "We'll get some air now, though. We'll be right outside."

Jarrod nodded and watched the crowd part and let the Nobles leave the courtroom. Victoria came up to her son and put her arm around him. Nick gave Jarrod a slap on the arm, and Audra said, "That was wonderful!"

Jarrod smiled. "We'll have to see if it was wonderful or not, honey," he said. "It was only wonderful if it worked."

"It was – interesting," Eugene said.

Victoria and Jarrod looked at each other. Maybe that was the best they were going to get out of Eugene at his age, despite the fact that he might have been thinking deeper thoughts in the privacy of his mind. Jarrod gave him a slap on the back, and Nick grabbed him around the neck and hauled him outside.

"Do you want to get some air, Jarrod?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "No. I'm going to stay here for a while and get my things together. And just – rest for a bit."

Victoria squeezed his hand. She knew he didn't want company, so she simply led Audra outside with everyone else.

So then it was just Jarrod and the court reporter in the courtroom. Jarrod knew Harold Lind well but didn't say anything to him this time. This case was just too serious, too gut wrenching, to talk about. Lind seemed to understand and went about his work in silence, as Jarrod did. Jarrod straightened his notes out but did not pack them away yet. If the jury had questions, he might need to consult his notes again, so he just got them in order, then got them in order one more time, and then just sat there, stretching his neck forward, trying not to worry about what verdict would be coming back. You always worried, even if you thought you had a rock solid case, because you never knew what a jury was going to do.

They were out for only fifteen minutes. The bailiff came back in alone, saying, "We have a verdict."

Someone had snuck in the back of the courtroom and hurried back out now. Jarrod could hear him telling everyone that the verdict was in. People came filing back in, and the Nobles and the Barkleys were first in the door. Jarrod tried a reassuring smile. It was usually a good sign for the prosecution when a jury came back that fast.

The sheriff brought Copper and his client back in, and then the judge came back in, and then the jury came back in. And then the verdict came in – guilty, murder and robbery. Jarrod heard Alice Noble burst into tears while one or two people applauded.

The judge banged his gavel, polled the jury, and asked Jarrod for the prosecution's sentencing request. Jarrod gave the recommendation that Pittsfield be hanged, and then he turned and looked at the Nobles as the judge asked, "Is there any testimony you wish to offer, Mr. Barkley?"

James and Alice Noble both shook their heads. Jarrod turned back to the judge and said, "No, Your Honor."

Copper made a plea for leniency, citing Pittsfield's claim he was drunk at the time of the killing. The judge sent the jury out again to deliberate on sentencing, but they weren't gone even long enough for the courtroom to empty. They came back quickly and recommended Pittsfield be hanged.

The judge concurred and pronounced sentence. Pittsfield would be taken to San Quentin and hanged. The judge banged his gavel, Pittsfield was taken away, and the jury was dismissed.

But the crowd was almost silent as they left the room. Jarrod turned and found the Nobles reaching for him. He went to them at the other side of the bar, and Alice Noble fell into his arms. He held her, but no one spoke. There were no more words. Jarrod looked up at his family, standing a bit off to the side, and saw Audra was crying a little bit. He gave her a light smile.

Jarrod finally said to the Nobles, "I'll come by your house later today and make sure you're doing all right. I know this has been very hard for you."

"You've made it easier, Jarrod," James Noble said. "We'll see you later."

Victoria and the children went out with the Nobles, but Nick stayed behind for a moment. "You doing all right, Jarrod?" he asked.

Jarrod took a deep breath and let it out. "These things are always hard, Nick. It's hard recommending a man's life be taken, even a man who's done something like this."

"I know," Nick said. "But I can't think of a better man to handle it than you."

Jarrod smiled a little and gave Nick a clap on the arm. "Thanks, Nick. Why don't you go catch up with Mother and the Nobles? I'll see you all when I get home tonight."

"All right," Nick said, and he left.

And the courtroom emptied completely, leaving Jarrod the only one there. He looked around as he began to pack up, feeling a mixture of relief, pride, and despair that this all had to happen in the first place. But _done_, he thought. _It's time to move on._

1877

Nick and Heath were pulling up to the house when Nick finished the story. "Pittsfield was hanged. The Nobles were pretty sullen for a while, but Jarrod spent a lot of time with them, and so did a lot of other people from town. It took a while, but they came back to church on Sunday. And you know what else? James Noble started coming into town and doing work like Flynn used to do. I saw him myself helping Mr. Weinberg at the synagogue on Hunter. Jarrod said Mr. Noble wanted to pick up where Flynn left off. It helped him and his wife heal, and the town started to realize how lucky we were to have the Nobles around."

Heath remembered the two people who had helped him when he was hurt. "They sure were good to me. If they hadn't told me they'd lost their son and Jarrod prosecuted the guy who killed him, I never would have been able to tell they'd gone through that. Tell you what, Nick – when it comes time to get them moved, let's make sure we do a bang-up job."

"We will," Nick said. "These folks are getting on toward the end of their lives. They deserve to be taken care of. Life's been tough, but they've come through, like I hope I can come through if things like what happened to them happen to me."

"Yeah," Heath said. "I get what you mean."

It was only a week later that all the work was done on the legalities of the Nobles' purchase of the house in Stockton. The Barkley men and several of the ranch hands helped the Nobles pack up three wagon loads of belongings. It wasn't until they were ready to pull out that Alice began to cry.

James put his arm around her. "Don't worry, Honey. This is the right thing we're doing."

"I know," she said. "But it's hard to say good-bye."

"The other end is hello," Jarrod said. "I think you're gonna be surprised when we get to town."

The Nobles both looked perplexed. The Barkley men smiled.

And when they got to town, they understood. Dozens of the Nobles' new neighbors were waiting at their new house, waiting to help them unpack and move in, waiting with food and smiles and a big cheer that went up when the wagons rolled in. Alice began to cry again, but she was crying with a big grin on her face.

Nick and Heath climbed down from the wagon they were on and joined Jarrod, who stood with the Nobles at the front gate of their new home. Jarrod was producing a bottle of champagne. "To toast this new home and all the happiness that will surround it for years to come," he said.

Alice Noble kissed him, and then she kissed Nick and Heath, too. And another cheer went up as everyone else began to help unload and take the Nobles' belongings inside.

"Nice," Heath said to himself, watched for a moment, and then pitched in.

The End


End file.
